


Leitmotif

by Evaine



Category: Black Sabbath, Metallica
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Rock Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaine/pseuds/Evaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James needs to visit an old friend.  (Written:  August 2006)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leitmotif

**Author's Note:**

> Leitmotif: 1. In music drama, a marked melodic phrase or short passage which always accompanies the reappearance of a certain person, situation, abstract idea, or allusion in the course of the play; a sort of musical label. 2. A dominant and recurring theme.

The heavy oak door opened slowly. Wise brown eyes. High cheekbones. A blade of a nose. A welcoming smile.

“James.” There was pleasure in that voice, pleasure real and warm.

Wordlessly James put one booted foot over the threshold. The leather collar in his pocket felt warm and alive as his finger slid along its studded length.

“It’s been a long time since you last were able to let go.” The voice was calm, soothing.

“Too long.” The words were low, edged with brittleness… and rough with something approaching entreaty.

He pulled the strip of leather and steel from his pocket as the door shut solidly behind him.

“You’re here now, lad.” Cool fingers eased the collar from his grip and fastened it securely about his neck. A soft brush of knuckles beneath his ear sent a curl of reassurance to his core. “I’m glad you thought to come to me.”

“There is no one else.” James swallowed, his Adam’s apple pressing against the welcome confines of the collar. One by one the tendrils of tension that had held him taut, closed, angry for months now, began to unwind, exposing his need for surrender.

“Come.”

Silently, James followed him.

“You’ve arranged to stay for the whole weekend?” The dark eyes were on him again. James grew warm beneath their measuring gaze, the pulse in his neck pounding evenly beneath the strap of leather. He wanted to be here. Needed to be here. With this man he was safe.

“Yeah—yes.” He must remember to speak correctly. It was expected. Required.

“Good. Very good.”

Fingers once thought injured beyond repair reached to touch James’ cheek and he turned his head slightly, leaning into them. The fingers moved on his skin and the years fell away. He remembered the first time he’d felt those fingers touch him. Backstage, spring 1986… before everything disintegrated and had to be put back together, never to be quite the same. Then, it had been bored curiosity coupled with a hefty dose of hero worship; now it was the only way he could find calm when life threatened to overwhelm him, even if only for a short while.

The hand moved to his shoulder.

“You remember the word, James?” He welcomed the slight pressure of those firm fingers.

“I do.” He sank to his knees, his own fingers going to the silver belt buckle.

James looked up into the dark eyes of his friend, his mentor, his master and smiled. The buckle parted with the soft chink of metal on metal.

“Pax.” The word left his lips on a soft sigh and in its wake came the ease of submission.

“Then let us begin.” With each click of the lowering zipper, Tony gathered the strands of the gift James was so rarely able to offer and… finally, James let go.

Peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Heather for the quick once over and to Joolz for all her enthusiasm and support! My submission for the "Beat the Heat" challenge.


End file.
